


Hardboiled in Hightown

by StartAnotherStory



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Humor, Parody, yes beta we live like women
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StartAnotherStory/pseuds/StartAnotherStory
Summary: Merrill learns how Varric manages to get his characterisation just so, with a little help from Isabela and Aveline.  Featuring prose as hard-boiled as an unimaginative breakfast, romance that wouldn’t be out of place in a Haynes Manual, and Varric's attempt at clickbait.
Relationships: Hawke & Merrill (Dragon Age), Isabela & Merrill (Dragon Age), Isabela & Varric Tethras, Merrill & Varric Tethras
Kudos: 6





	1. Hardboiled in Hightown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HelenDamnation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenDamnation/gifts).



> With thanks to HelenDamnation for the beta.

The silhouette leaning against the side of the Hanged Man pulled her hat further down over her eyes and lifted the pipe to her mouth. With slow deliberation she exhaled and the single column of smoke that had been rising from the chamber disappeared, obliterated by her cloud, like a vine breaking through lines of mortar. Above her, the warm wind brushed storm clouds over a blade-thin crescent moon, obscuring its light and plunging the city into a pool of filthy ink.

“Can’t you tell where you are by the smell of fish?”

Varric fell off the barrel of fish and knocked into Isabela, whose pipe and hat disappeared somewhere in the shadows around their feet, quickly followed by most of his notes and all of his ink.

“Daisy!” he snapped, partially to cover the sound of Isabela’s swearing. “We’re trying to solve a murder here.”

“Oh. Shouldn’t you tell Hawke? Or Aveline?”

“It’s not a real murder, Kitten,” Isabela told her, managing to hide her relief that she wasn’t having to inhale the smoke any more.

“Then how will you solve it if no one is really dead?” Merrill was curious, but not at all troubled. This was presumably one of the odd things that happened around Hawke, like people falling from the sky and the selective use of surnames.

“I’m trying to get a feel for the scene,” Varric explained as he gathered his notes. “Isabela is helping me figure out the tone.”

“Oh. I see. Is it working?”

Isabela found the pipe by stepping on it. “No,” she asserted, then, to Varric, “I told you, you should have asked Hawke.”

“Not everything needs to involve Hawke! I can write stories based on other things, you know.”

“Read Merrill your notes,” she retorted.

Varric gave her a look, then turned his eyes to his notes. “Square. Face. Ember,” he managed, eventually, with less dignity than he wanted.

“Why don’t we try the Alienage?” Merrill asked them brightly. “And if it doesn’t work we can have a cup of tea.”

They drifted, bickering, towards the alienage, and Merrill waved quickly at the darkness before following the others. Behind them, Hawke creeped up the steps back towards Hightown, reflecting that innocent wasn’t the same as stupid, and that Varric was right.


	2. No More Personality than Paper Swords and Shields

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s title is based on Raymond Chandler’s description of Los Angeles as “that hard-boiled city with no more personality than a paper cup” and the title of Varric Tethras’ most recently completed serial, ‘Swords and Shields’.
> 
> With thanks to beta-reader HelenDamnation, on whom this is primarily inflicted.

“Swords,” Varric declared, holding one hand up in the air as if to indicate the magnificence of this particular word. Hawke stared at him without expression. Undeterred, Varric held out his other hand, a little lower than the first, as if to prepare Hawke for its gravity. “And Shields!” The triumph he felt at this was, according to Hawke’s face, not justified. “It’s a romance,” he added. “How hard can it be?” Hawke’s face remained immobile. “Bah, I might as well talk to Fenris.” Varric stomped off, calling “I’ll prove it! This is a good idea!” over his shoulder.

*

Swords and Shields?

Dorren lowered his world-weary eyes to the growing pile of scrolls before him. For three days, the lords of the three great houses had discussed the three possible paths to victory.

“Ser Ava Valen!” The herald’s declaration turned few heads, but the sudden hush from those who had seen Ser Ava drew Dorren’s attention. Gradually, every eye in the room was gazing at her. Her beauty was so great that not one of the assembled nobles could look away.

Ava’s knee-length, flame-red hair with ash and ember streaks flowed behind her as she descended the stairs.

“But her hair is orange.”

This time, Varric managed not to fall off his chair. “It’s not orange, Daisy, it’s this…these colours. That’s why I wrote her that way!”

“But Aveline has orange hair.”

Varric laughed nervously. “Aveline? Talk about persona non-sequitur.”

“And it’s a lot shorter than that.”

“I am not writing about Aveline.” The words came out flat and too close together.

“You’re not writing very well, either.” It would have been insulting, but Merrill seemed to be really thinking about it. “Tell you what, why don’t we go for a drink and you can tell me about her, and why she has such long hair. Isn’t it impractical?”

Varric allowed himself to be led to the bar. “I need to write something that a lot of people will want to buy, Daisy. Rent isn’t cheap…”

As the door closed behind them, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows, and a gloved hand reached down and traced the title. Hawke sighed. “Varric… This is terrible.”

*

Someone dropped an empty tankard, and Varric started awake, convinced that someone had lit some gaatlok next to his ear. The hanged man slowly emerged from the horrible blaze of colours floating before his eyes, and something under his hand scraped as he tried to sit up. Blearily, he stared at it until it turned into something he could make sense of.

 ~~Swords and Shields?~~ _Battles and Business_

_Dorren suppressed a sigh. The growing pile of scrolls on his desk each held a potential for their future…_

He scanned the handful of rewritten paragraphs as quickly as the beer would let him. Oh. Oho! Oh dear. It was much better.

*

“So your holiday isn’t going so well, then?” Merrill asked politely. Hawke stared disconsolately at a sleeping cat. It didn’t appear to require rescuing. It hadn’t lost an important mouse that only Hawke could find. It wasn’t possessed by a demon. Unless...

“I’ve got used to having to fix things.”

Merrill nodded, reassuring. “You’ll get used to taking time to yourself. You did well to get out of helping Varric write those notes. I was very proud of you for leaving it to Isabela and me. It’s important to learn to take breaks, even if you don’t want to. You’re doing really well.”

Hawke blushed miserably.


	3. Shipbait Articles

_Break through writer’s block with a little help from Bianca! These five diagrams will astound you!_

Varric chewed thoughtfully on the end of his quill. Walking and writing at the same time might have been a very bad idea, but the Wounded Coast was far enough from Kirkwall that sensible conversation got exhausted on the way there, leaving nothing but potentially tradable gossip to fill the time to the next cave or ambush or whatever it was this time. He was too focused on writing his next purchase-bait column for the _Kirkwall Fervenial_ to pay attention. The Deep Roads expedition had made him rich, but it had not helped his career as a writer.

 _Sea, Sex and Spells – local Pirate Captain spotted with apostate???_ No. The Templars would want to know who the apostate was.

 _Remember the Prince of Starkhaven? You won’t BELIEVE what he’s doing now!_ Yes, that had some potential. He turned to Merrill. “Who’s Choirboy seeing nowadays?”

Merrill shrugged and threw a questioning look at Hawke, who frowned thoughtfully. “I think he’s taken some sort of oath? If he’s seeing anyone, it isn’t out of my window.”

This drew Isabela’s interest. “What _are_ you talking about? And can I join in?” 

_Shocking scenes on the Wounded Coast as Amell heir spotted in…_ No, no, Varric really did not want to think about Hawke like that. Isabela managed that all by herself and didn’t need help from a gossip column.

Varric waved a frantic hand at her. He needed information, and didn’t need her interrupting Hawke and derailing the conversation.

“You know, my window.”

“Your _window_ window?”

“Yes. Oh, you haven’t seen out of the window. We get all sorts of news through the window. For example, the Arenbergs have made up,” Hawke told her. “We saw them last night.”

“Again!” Merrill added, joyfully. “And this time, _he_ was wearing clothes.” 

_Couples in Kirkwall are reuniting with this one weird trick!_

Before Isabela had an opportunity to double the entendre, Hawke interjected. “One of my upstairs windows looks out over a shared courtyard…and into other people’s windows.”

“Anything interesting developments?” Varric asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation back to something usable. “You’re killing me here.”

Hawke, sensing Varric’s desperation, tried to think of something, anything, to do with the window. “I am…thinking of getting some curtains…?”

_Redecorate like an Adventurer! The Kirkwall Fervenial brings you Serah Hawke’s top ten tips for a beautiful home._


End file.
